Closing out of his contacts, he opened Face2Face and hit his brother’s picture. After a moment, Everett answered, the screen filled with an unflattering angle showcasing his nostrils and the underside of his chin. He glanced down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Micah dithered in the hall, eyeing the bathroom. “Why would something be wrong? I can’t call my favorite brother in the middle of a weekday when I know he’s at work and busy?”
The clack of a keyboard filled the speakers. Everett said, “Seriously. Did something happen? You look anxious. Hey, did you get that list of therapists I sent you?”
This was a bad idea. “I did, yeah.”
“You haven’t called any of them, huh? Want me to do it? I’ll book you an appointment, no problem.”
Micah moved the phone away from his face so Everett couldn’t see his expression. “I don’t need help with it.”
“Okay.” His tone called Micah a liar, but he didn’t push it. When they were kids, Everett was the carefree one, dragging Micah along on dangerous, sometimes illegal adventures. But he’d become so much like Dad as he got older that Micah hardly recognized him sometimes. The keyboard clacked. “So, what’s going on?”
If Micah mentioned the message on the mirror, it would only make Everett more concerned, which meant he needed some other reason for calling.
The half-finished painting on the easel caught Micah’s eye. It had been sitting beside the drafting table in its current state for so long that he no longer had any concept of its quality.
“I just need your opinion on something.”
Everett’s upside-down face pulled into a smile. “You met a guy.”
“No.”
“A woman.”
“No.”
“A non-binary person so unbelievably hot and fantastic that you need my help picking out engagement rings.”
Micah sagged. “God, I wish. No, I need you to look at this painting I’m doing and give your honest opinion.”
Everett stopped typing. “You’re kidding, right? Everything you create is gorgeous. And a little creepy. But gorgeous. And you’ve never been insecure about your art before.”
“This one is different. Honest opinion.”
“Different how? It’s not a portrait?”
“Portrait, yes. I’m trying to summon Beelzebub with it, but I don’t think I got the nose right.”
Everett made an indecipherable noise. His brother never knew how to take his jokes, and that was part of what made them so funny.
“If it’s not good,” Micah said, “but you lie and say it is, you’ll only be wasting my time, not saving my feelings.”
“And your demon summoning will fail. Gotcha. If it’s ugly, I’ll tell you.”
A thud came from behind him, and he gasped and nearly dropped the phone. The sound of a closet door slamming closed came from the other side of the wall. For god’s sake. Just the neighbor.
Pressing a hand to his pounding heart, Micah turned the screen to face the landscape.
“It’s ugly,” Everett said.
“I knew it.”
“Not technically. It’s very skillful, just like everything you paint. But it’s boring. A field and a barn. I think I would have preferred Beelzebub.”
“That’s what the client wants. I’m doing it from a photograph.”
